


Beneath My Skin

by torturingtaylor (itzaimster)



Category: Hanson, Supernatural
Genre: Gen, Tour Bus, Touring, Vampires, Werewolves
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-31
Updated: 2017-09-08
Packaged: 2018-12-05 07:56:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 13
Words: 19,319
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11573736
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/itzaimster/pseuds/torturingtaylor
Summary: Sam and Dean are on the case when a string of deaths seem to follow the Hanson tour.Supernatural timeline: set after 12x07.Hanson timeline: set during the US leg of the 2017 MOE tour.





	1. Prologue

“Oh my God he’s coming.”  
“Hold it together!”  
“Hey Tay!”  
“The show was amazing!”  
Taylor was already grinning as he made his way down the line of barricaded fans.  
“Hi,” he greeted the first of their group, quickly autographing the poster that had been pushed toward him and moving on to a nearby CD cover, “you guys enjoy the show?”  
“Totally!”  
“When are you coming back?”  
“Are you coming here on the Christmas tour?!”  
Taylor locked eyes with a shorter blond who didn’t have anything for him to sign. Instead he offered to shake her hand. She quickly and energetically took hold of it.  
“I saw you on the balcony,” he mused with narrowed eyes, “you were very… animated.”  
She immediately blushed.  
“It was great,” he quickly insisted, covering her hand with his other, “if only the whole crowd had as much energy as you did.”  
He smiled and moved on to take a quick selfie with the girl next to her. The blond could barely contain herself and her friends had to purposely drag her away from the barrier.  
“Carly! Oh my God!”  
“What just happened?!”  
“I don’t know!” she was shaking with excitement and feeling slightly dizzy.  
She turned back to the crowd to see that Taylor had already left, and Isaac was signing where they’d just been.  
“Come on we need to get back to the car! We have a long drive ahead of us,” her friend took her by the arm.  
They followed the small group back toward the parking lot, having to go down a thin alley on the way. They’d barely reached the end when Carly suddenly collapsed.  
“Carly!” the friend with her rushed to her side.  
“What’s wrong?!” another called from a distance.  
The girl knelt at her side, quickly helping her sit up against the brick wall. The other three crowded around them.  
“Carly?” she patted her face, trying to wake her up, “CARLY!”  
“I’m calling an ambulance.”  
“We don’t have time! We have to get to Atlanta!”  
“Shut up Lane!”  
“She’s not coming to. Oh my God.”  
“Hello? 911?!”


	2. One: The Case

“Carly Jefferson,” Sam threw the article in front of Dean as he’d just been about to fill his mouth with bacon, “late 20’s, went to a rock concert one night last week. Collapsed in an alley after the show. Pronounced dead on arrival at the hospital.”  
“A rock concert?” Dean’s brow rose.  
“Yeah.”  
“It’s a _rock_ concert. Things happen. How is this our thing?”  
“Glad you asked,” Sam legitimately was, having been worried he’d brush it off, “our thing comes down to the cause of death.”  
He pointed to the line in the article. Dean tilted his head to read it instead of moving the paper, frowning when he saw what Sam was referring to.  
“No cause of death?” he looked confused, “how?”  
“Exactly. A healthy 20-something doesn’t just keel over after a concert without it being drug-related or a heart attack or…”  
“I don’t know about that,” Dean mused, “we’ve seen a few.”  
“Yeah, and one time I seem to remember a reaper being on a very short leash,” Sam scorned, “remember that?”  
“Yeah I remember,” Dean pulled a face, annoyed at the memory of someone’s life having been taken to save his.  
Especially in the name of God, and especially now that they knew him.  
“So you think this is a case?” he quickly cleared his throat.  
“I think it’s worth checking out, at least while Cas is busy,” Sam shrugged, “the writer of the article doesn’t live far from here.”  
“Since when do you look up the journalist?” Dean finally looked up at his brother.  
“Since she and the vic were related,” Sam smiled triumphantly.

Dean was waiting in the car as Sam made his way into a coffee shop in the main street of the small town. His imposing figure taking up most of the doorway, it was a surprise when the woman didn’t see him and almost dropped everything she was carrying as they ran straight into each other.  
“Oh my God! I’m so sorry!” she collected everything and put a hand to her forehead as if she couldn’t believe the bad day she was having.  
“It’s no bother,” Sam quickly tried to make sure she had everything, “are you okay?”  
“I’m fine,” she insisted, making to walk past, “sorry again.”  
“Hey…” Sam pulled her attention back, “Claire? Claire Jefferson?”  
“Yeah…?” she raised a brow suspiciously.  
“Clay Hampton,” Sam put a hand to his chest, “you probably don’t remember. We did our undergrad together at UFL.”  
“We did?” she frowned, looking him over.  
“Yeah! I remember always seeing you with your head down in Foley’s lectures,” Sam smiled warmly, “not that he wasn’t good, he was just… what’s the word…”  
“ _Boring_ ,” she offered for him.  
Sam broke into a chuckle.  
“He had some great ideas but man…” she shook her head, “so where are you now? Clay was it?”  
“Oh here and there, I haven’t quite settled yet,” Sam’s hands slid into his pockets so he could appear more relaxed and familiar, “I actually saw that piece you wrote the other day about the girl that died after the concert in St. Petersburg. That sure was something.”  
Claire’s face immediately fell.  
“I’m sorry,” Sam frowned when he realised, “I don’t mean to bring up something upsetting, I just thought it was a great article.”  
“No it’s okay,” she shook her head, moving to let some people through them, “thank you.”  
“Did they really have no cause of death? I mean that sounds like something of a mysterious circumstance that they should be investigating,” Sam went on before she could cut the conversation short.  
“They are investigating,” she sighed, “they’re just taking their sweet time doing it.”  
“But they did an autopsy, right?”  
“Of course,” she looked disturbed that he’d asked, “they said there was nothing wrong with her heart. No sign of a drug overdose, which I know for a fact Carly never touched those in her life. She was my cousin.”  
“Oh I’m sorry,” Sam’s brow furrowed, “I didn’t know. I’m sorry for your loss.”  
“Thanks,” Claire bit her lip.  
“Were you close?” he kept rolling.  
“Yeah,” she smirked a little, “we used to fight over which one of us could be called ‘CJ’ because we couldn’t both be. I was there that night, too.”  
“You were at the concert?” Sam’s brow rose.  
“Yeah,” she nodded, unsure of why she was telling him at all.  
At the same time, he was the first person besides the cops to really ask at all.  
“We grew up loving those guys. We always try and see a few shows every tour. We were rushing back after the show so we could drive to Atlanta and see the next one the next day. It was kind of our ‘thing’.”  
“Sounds fun,” Sam offered a smile.  
“It was,” she suddenly looked forlorn, “but I don’t think it ever will be again.”  
“Did your cousin do anything else after the concert?” Sam thought to ask, “did you guys just come straight out so you could head to Atlanta? Do you remember anything else odd about the night? Maybe someone or something strange around your cousin?”  
“No,” Claire frowned with thought, “it was your typical show. I mean after we didn’t leave _right_ away, we stopped to try and get some autographs and the guys did come out.”  
“They did?” Sam’s brow rose.  
“Yeah. Well, we got to see Zac and Taylor but we didn’t wait for Isaac. Taylor said something to Carly about seeing her in the crowd and she was crazy happy.”  
“He did? That’s kinda weird.”  
“Not really,” Claire shrugged, “they recognise fans all the time, but that night it was just extra special you know?”  
She sighed.  
“I’m glad that, if it was her time, she at least had that moment with Taylor. I think she’d be happy with that.”  
Sam offered another sympathetic smile before she checked her phone.  
“I’m sorry to burden you with that, and I really have to go. I’m already late for an appointment.”  
“That’s fine,” Sam assured, “take care. It was good to see you again.”  
“Sure, you too,” she smiled, “good luck Clay.”  
“You too, though I’m sure you don’t need it,” he smiled after her as she headed down the sidewalk to a nearby car and got in.  
He stepped into the coffee shop to collect a couple of drinks for he and his brother before heading back to the Impala.  
“So? Was it drugs?” Dean reached for the coffee as Sam got into the car.  
“Not drugs,” Sam got himself settled, “and she doesn’t know cause of death either. We might have to go talk to the M.E.”  
“Do we know where?”  
“Autopsy was conducted in St. Petersburg where she died. Let’s start there.”

The brothers flashed their fake IDs at the receptionist who directed them toward the morgue. They found the medical examiner just finishing up with a cadaver, returning it to storage and closing the door.  
“Dr Rawlinson? Agents Gibbons and Hill, FBI,” Dean introduced, pocketing his ID again.  
“What can I do for you?” the portly man raised a brow over his spectacles as he went to remove his latex gloves.  
“You had a patient through here a few days back. Jefferson, Carly,” Sam replied, “we’re told you couldn’t find a cause of death.”  
“Oh yes, that was a special one. It’s odd but it happens,” the doctor shrugged as he washed his hands, “physically she was fine. She was just… drained.”  
“Drained?” Dean’s brow rose.  
“Yes,” he paused to explain, “classic signs of dehydration, malnutrition, even thinner blood… but her stomach had plenty of food and water in it. I’d say it was drugs but her toxicology came up empty.”  
“Is it possible she’d taken something that could have disappeared from the blood stream?” Sam suggested, “or something untraceable?”  
“Not unless it’s something I’ve never heard of,” the doctor shook his head, “nothing the police had ever heard of either. They were as confused as I am I can assure you.”  
“What’s your professional opinion, about what happened to her?” Dean was amiable, hinting that it could be off the record.  
“Just what I said in my report,” the doctor eyed him, “I don’t know. That’s what they call you boys in for.”  
Sam and Dean eyed each other and Sam simply nodded in agreement.  
“Thank you for your time,” he smiled before turning to leave.  
“Wait… the body,” Dean turned back, “has it been turned over to the family yet?”  
“I believe she was cremated yesterday,” the doctor shrugged before getting back to work.  
Dean cursed inside his head before following his brother out.

“So without a body, this could be a dead end,” Dean shook his head at dinner before downing part of his beer.  
Sam was staring at his food, knowing they were missing something. He just wasn’t sure what.  
“The M.E. _says_ she was in a weird condition but without seeing it for ourselves…”  
“I know, I know,” Sam frowned, trying to think of another avenue they could take.  
Knowing he’d lost him to thought, Dean focused on eating before pulling over the nearby newspaper. He figured he could always look for another lead while waiting for Sam to cut their losses.  
“What if we went and spoke to her parents, maybe get an idea of how active she was or…”  
“It’s not our job to confirm she died of natural causes,” Dean muttered, folding the paper one-handed, “but because I’m a professional I think I just solved our problem.”  
“How?” Sam frowned before Dean turned the paper toward him.  
“We got another body. It’s in Raleigh, North Carolina.”


	3. Two: The Investigation

“We’re very sorry for your loss,” Sam’s brow furrowed as Dean handed the woman a box of tissues.  
“Thank you,” she took a couple and blew her nose.  
“So Kirsty… your sister was hospitalised before she died?” Dean tried to stay on course.  
“Yes,” she nodded, “but not for long. She died the morning after the show.”  
“The show?” Sam’s brow rose.  
“Yes. We went to the Hanson concert on the 22nd, at The Ritz? They’re saying it might have been exhaustion that did it, but she was sick for most of the show.”  
“Hanson concert?” Sam confirmed, shooting Dean a glance.  
“So she didn’t get sick after?” Dean kept on, “she was sick during the whole concert?”  
“Yeah,” Kirsty nodded again, “but she was fine during the day! I mean she was nervous but she wasn’t ill. She had a meet and greet with the band before the show so that’s all that she could focus on.”  
The brothers shared a glance.  
“At least she got that before she…” Kirsty broke off, breaking into tears again.  
Dean sighed internally before pushing the tissues toward her again.  
“So she was fine before she met the band,” Sam tried to understand, “has anyone talked to them about it?”  
Kirsty broke into a chuckle.  
“What?” Dean was confused.  
“That’s absurd,” Kirsty mused, “you think they had something to do with it? If anything they gave my sister the best last night of her life that they ever could have.”  
Dean sat back at that, unsure of how to take it. Sam took a moment to shift his train of thought.  
“Have they given you any indication that it might have been something other than exhaustion that took her life?” he asked.  
“No,” she rolled her eyes, “they were saying maybe drugs but she hasn’t done any since she was a teenager. We have better things to spend our money on these days.”  
“Like concerts,” Dean jumped in.  
“Exactly,” she agreed.

“ _Hanson_?” Dean scowled as they left the house, “you didn’t tell me it was Hanson. Like _Mmmbop_ Hanson?”  
“One and the same,” Sam confirmed.  
“You said it was a rock concert,” Dean’s frown only deepened as he opened the Impala door.  
“I did.”  
“So…?”  
“So I think we need to do some more research,” Sam diverted, “they’re obviously touring right now. We need to see where they’ve been and start checking the local hospitals for admissions.”

“Hi this is Dr Merlotte calling from Raleigh Medical. We have a patient we haven’t been able to diagnose and I heard a rumor that you might have recently had an inpatient in a similar state. I was wondering if you or an attending nurse could give us some hints for what we might be dealing with over here,” Sam ticked New Orleans off his list, “sure I’ll hold.”  
“Hey this is Dr Richards over at the Suncoast Medical Clinic in St. Petersburg. We’ve had a female patient come in with a bit of an odd condition and we heard you might be able to help us diagnose it,” Dean was working Nashville, “…sure, she still works there. I’ll say hi for you.”  
“Good afternoon! Yeah this is certainly a doozy. It’s got us puzzled for sure. So the patient came in to us showing signs of severe dehydration and malnutrition, but otherwise she was physically fine.”  
“No I don’t know that name. I really just need to talk to someone about this patient…”  
“No I’m sorry, she passed a few days back. Why do you ask?” Sam’s eyes narrowed.  
“No I don’t have a warrant! I was hoping just to talk to someone in a sort of ‘greater good’ capacity. Come on, we got a girl in need here!”  
“Really?” Sam suddenly looked up and locked eyes with his brother.  
Dean paused before simply ending his call. He hadn’t been getting anywhere anyway.  
“It is, it really is. Uh… would you mind if we sent someone out there? Actually I might come out myself. This has thrown all of us here and we just really want some answers.”  
“What is it?” Dean was frowning.  
“Thank you! I’ll get on a plane first thing tomorrow. It’s Dr Camden, right? Sure. Thanks again!”  
Sam ended the call and rubbed his face.  
“What is it?!” Dean repeated.  
“There was another one in New Orleans,” Sam revealed, “but she’s still alive.”  
“She survived?” Dean’s brow rose.  
“We need to get there as soon as we can in case she doesn’t last,” Sam immediately got up to pack.

The Impala made it to New Orleans in the early hours of the morning, so the boys found a motel to sleep away the rest of it. By early afternoon they’d suited up and headed for the hospital. It didn’t take long to find Dr Camden, and she led them straight to the patient.  
“This is Laurel,” she folded her arms in the doorway as the brothers headed into the room, “she’s been in an induced coma for… about a week now.”  
“But she was awake before that?” Sam checked.  
Dr Camden nodded.  
“We haven’t been able to do much more for her yet. She just needs to recover. But the signs are good. We hope to wake her up on Wednesday and see how she’s responding.”  
“Had it affected her mentally?” Dean was confused.  
“No, but for a while there her body just wasn’t responding to treatment,” the doctor shrugged, “it just continued the process of shutting down. We even called the family in a few days back before she seemed to pick back up again.”  
“Do you know what caused the turnaround?” Sam was looking the patient over.  
For a woman who appeared to be early to mid-20’s, she looked haggard. Her skin was pale, nearly gray, and she was very thin.  
“Not at all,” Dr Camden shrugged again, “we were hoping if it were some kind of virus that her immune system might have finally started to fight back.”  
“Have you ever seen a virus like this?” Sam asked, Dean visibly running through possibilities in his head.  
She could have looked like a zombie, but how would the band be potentially carrying it without becoming infected themselves? Unless there was something their road crew wasn’t telling them.  
“Not since I’ve been here,” the doctor shook her head, “I’ve been told it’s almost plague-like, but she hasn’t passed it on to anyone. Her first five days were spent in quarantine until the blood could be checked.”  
“Anything abnormal about the blood work?” Dean raised a brow.  
“It was very thin. She’s needed maybe three transfusions since she’s been here.”  
“Were there any unusual cuts, scratches… maybe sites where a needle could have broken the skin?” Sam suggested.  
“Nothing significant that we could find. She did have a dog bite on her arm but it was already healing before she came in.”  
The brothers shared a look at that.  
“If you think of anything else, or if you do find out what it was, would you give me a call?” Sam offered her a card.  
“Of course,” she took it.  
“Thanks.”

Sam sighed as he fell into his seat in the Impala before handing Dean his food. Dean ignored it at first, scrolling through his phone screen in deep concentration.  
“What is it?” Sam asked, always worried when Dean ignored food.  
“These assholes,” Dean muttered, “dropping bodies everywhere. And if it is the band, how many times has this happened before?”  
“We should probably focus on this tour as opposed to any past ones,” Sam suggested.  
“Yeah, yeah.”  
Dean sighed.  
“So I guess we have to go and see Hanson,” he grit his teeth.  
“Yeah… that might be a problem,” Sam scratched at his cheek.  
“Why?” Dean raised a brow.  
“Because they’re sold out.”  
Dean gave him a blank look for a few seconds, having trouble processing what he meant.  
“They’re sold out,” he repeated.  
“Yep.”  
“You mean the concerts.”  
“Yep. Next one that isn’t sold out is in Montreal, Canada and it’s not until October 3rd.”  
“What the hell?”  
Sam just shrugged.  
“And you checked?”  
“…Yes,” Sam’s eyes shifted, “the next American one not sold out is Salt Lake City on October 15th.”  
“What the hell?”  
“I don’t know what to tell you,” Sam shrugged again.  
“Well we can’t leave them dropping bodies that long,” Dean insisted, leaning forward to start the car, “where are they now?”  
“Ohio, then they have two shows coming up in PA,” Sam quickly pulled out his phone for reference, “Carnegie Hall in Pittsburgh and The Fillmore in Philadelphia.”  
“So let’s head for PA and see what happens,” Dean pulled the car out before reaching for his burger, “any stiffs out of Ohio?”  
“Not yet, a far as I can tell.”  
They drove on in silence for a while as they both ate.  
“How are they selling out?” Dean eventually couldn’t take it, “I mean they’ve done nothing since they were kids.”  
“Not true, I’ve done some research,” Sam assured.  
“Of course you have.”  
“They’ve been touring pretty consistently for the last fifteen years or so. Released six albums, another two on the way this year alone all on their own record label…”  
“They have a record label?” Dean’s brow furrowed.  
“They run a music festival in Oklahoma every year, they’ve got their own beer company…”  
“Now you’re pulling my leg,” Dean insisted, “Hanson have a _beer_?”  
“I’m not making this up,” Sam shook his head, “it’s won awards. Big ones.”  
Dean scoffed at that.  
“You do realize their majority fan base are probably pushing 40 now, right?” Sam checked, “I mean they’re our age.”  
“That can’t be right.”  
“It was the 90’s. It’s been twenty years.”  
“Yeah, yeah. I don’t need to feel older than I already do.”  
Sam smirked at that.  
“Punch in the coordinates for this Carnegie Hall. We’ll see what we see soon enough,” Dean blew him off, getting back to eating.


	4. Three: The Comrade

The day of the Pittsburgh show the Impala pulled into the joint parking lot of the Carnegie Library and Museum just after lunchtime. Sam shook his brother awake once he’d parked, and Dean struggled to wake himself up before having a look around.  
“Where are we?” he frowned.  
“GPS says this is it. The hall must be in there somewhere,” Sam indicated the large building.  
Dean checked his watch.   
“What exactly is the plan?” Sam looked him over, “we just wait for someone to look sick? There could be a couple thousand people here tonight.”  
“We need to get a look at the band and their crew and see if any of _them_ look sick first,” Dean corrected, “the crowd isn’t the focus here.”  
He opened the Impala door and got out to have a look around. Sam joined him as he straightened his jacket out, clearing his throat as he spotted some food places across the road.  
“We’re still early so we should grab some food,” he indicated his intended direction.  
“Sure,” Sam didn’t look sure, looking around himself.  
But he followed his brother across the road, throwing the keys to him on the way. When they got to the other side Dean paused. When Sam turned to see why, he frowned.  
“What’s going on?” he asked aloud.  
“No way,” Dean couldn’t believe it, “they’re camping out.”  
Sam could see the tents and umbrellas scattered down the sidewalk. There were a good thirty or so people forming a raggedy line.  
“And why is there a dinosaur? Screw this, I need to eat,” Dean shook his head and kept walking.

By the time they returned they could see a large bus outside the venue. Pausing across the street to watch, they could clearly see the roadies loading the gear inside.  
“And it begins,” Sam’s brow rose, “do you think the band’s here?”  
“Does it matter?” Dean shrugged, “we need to check the crew.”  
He crossed the street, not waiting for Sam. He stopped when he was close enough to get a look at the people loading in but by the time Sam joined him he’d seen three different people and none of them looked at all unhealthy.  
“We need a way in,” he muttered, already looking for other doors.  
“Maybe the second floor?” Sam was looking up.  
Dean followed his eye line before walking to the left. Sam followed, figuring he was trying to find somewhere out of sight to scale the walls. Instead, Dean headed around the back to check if there was a back way in – or another way up. He stopped short in the driveway.  
“Son of a bitch,” he cursed under his breath.  
“What?” Sam frowned, before seeing a couple about their age making their way toward them from the parking area.  
“HEY!” Dean yelled out, making them stop in their tracks.  
The man looked up, immediately breaking into a grin.  
“Dean? Sam?!”  
“What are you doing here?” Sam was perplexed before being grabbed into a tight hug.  
He froze and waited to be let go.  
“Yeah, what are you doing here Garth?” Dean eyed Bess as he waited for an answer.  
“This is so random!” he was ecstatic as he pulled away from Sam, aiming for Dean until he quickly stood back out of the way, “some friends of mine are putting a show on here tonight and we just came down to say hey before they set up.”  
“Friends?” Sam’s brow rose.  
“You’re friends with Hanson?” Dean’s expression mirrored his.  
“Well… kind of,” Garth shrugged, “we don’t really see them much, they’re always busy. But we try and catch up whenever they come through Wisconsin.“  
“So why didn’t you just see them up there?” Sam was confused.  
“There’s a full moon around those nights,” Bess offered warily.  
“We didn’t want to risk it,” Garth’s voice lowered, “if you know what I mean.”  
“Yeah, we know,” Sam assured.  
“Hanson aren’t werewolves, are they?” Dean felt the need to make sure.  
“Of course not,” Garth broke into a chuckle, “why would you ask?”  
“No reason,” Dean brushed off right away.  
“Wait…” Garth was suddenly looking between them, “why are _you_ here? Are you guys on a case? Do you think Hanson are involved?!”  
“No,” Dean scoffed.  
“Maybe,” Sam shot a glance at his brother.  
“Maybe,” Dean admitted.  
“We’ve been following a trail, and it’s led us here. We just want to make sure no one with the band is involved.”  
“What trail? I can help!” Garth insisted.  
“It’s probably best not talking about it out here,” Dean pointed out, checking over his shoulder that they were still (mostly) alone.  
“Right, right,” Garth agreed, “well… let’s do lunch then! Bess can go hang with the guys and I’ll come with you.”  
“Are you sure?” Bess looked worried.  
“They’re my friends, Bess. Of course I’m sure,” Garth looked her in the eye.  
“We just ate,” Dean informed him.  
“I didn’t,” Garth shrugged, “come on, it’ll be like old times!”

“Thank you,” Garth offered the waitress a warm smile as she brought his drink over.  
Sam and Dean opted to wait until she’d walked out of earshot, but Garth leant forward right away.  
“So what have you got?” his eyes flicked between them.  
“Well…” Sam wasn’t sure how much they wanted to share, “there’s been bodies dropping all over the south, and when we talked to the victims’ families we noticed they were following the Hanson tour.”  
“There’s one still alive in New Orleans, but barely,” Dean added, “as far as we can tell there’s been at least one after every show.”  
“If there’s more we don’t know about them,” Sam quickly amended.  
“What are they dying of?” Garth asked, “were their hearts missing?”  
“No,” Dean scorned.  
“We don’t know,” Sam admitted, “and the doctors haven’t helped either. They’re just… drained. Physically. Like they’ve been stuck out in the desert for days, only they were bright and healthy before the shows.”  
“Well. I know Hanson shows can get a bit rough,” Garth shrugged, making Dean frown, “but I gotta admit that’s weird.”  
“Yeah it is,” Sam agreed.  
“What do you mean by ‘rough’?” Dean demanded.  
“Hanson fans are hardcore,” Garth nodded, “they camp out for front row and they do not like anyone trying to take that away from them. They travel to multiple shows. When the guys come out and see them after a show they need constant security with them just in case. Not so much to protect them, but to protect the fans from each other.”  
“You said they travel?” Sam jumped on, “so there could be fans following the tour as well?”  
“Sure,” Garth nodded.  
“So our suspect pool just grew by a hundred,” Dean muttered, not sure he entirely believed what Garth was saying.  
“Maybe not that many,” Garth’s eyes narrowed, “a lot of them go to multiple shows, sure. But not many follow a _whole_ tour. I can do some digging if you like and find some fans that have been?”  
“If you can, sure. That’d be great,” Sam nodded.  
“Do you have tickets to the show?” Garth looked between them.  
“Heard it was sold out,” Dean stared him down.  
“Hm. Okay. Well, come by the back door after the show starts and I’ll see what I can do.”  
Sam shot Dean a glance at that. He could instantly tell that Dean was uncomfortable with the idea.  
“That’d be awesome, thank you,” Sam accepted for them both.  
“Like I said, it’ll be just like old times,” Garth grinned, “back on a case with the Winchesters!”  
“Sure,” Dean rolled his eyes, grabbing his beer glass.

“Are you buying everything he’s selling?” Dean kept his voice down once they’d parted from Garth.  
Sam watched where he was making his way into the back of the building, giving someone out of sight a hug before being handed a lanyard.  
“You mean about the band?” Sam’s brow rose.  
“Yeah. About the fans being on par with the Beliebers.”  
“I mean I’ve heard stories,” Sam shrugged, “and you saw the tents.”  
“Yeah but… it’s not the 90’s anymore, how old are these girls?” Dean scoffed.  
“The same age as the band, in a lot of cases,” Sam began following him back toward the Impala.  
Dean sighed to himself, making Sam smirk.  
“What?” Dean demanded, stopping once he’d opened the car door.  
“Nothing,” Sam shook his head, “just… you’re forgetting Vince Vincente so soon? There were a lot of people willing to do a lot of messed up things for him.”  
“He was _Lucifer_!” Dean hit back.  
“He wasn’t always,” Sam shrugged, “and those women were there long before he was ever possessed.”  
Dean scowled at that before getting in the car. Sam looked back at the hall before joining him.


	5. Four: The Concert

It was well after dark when Dean glanced over as Sam’s head bobbed in time to the music in his earbuds. He couldn’t quite hear what it was, and Sam wasn’t giving anything away.  
It didn’t seem perky enough to be _Mmmbop_ , but Dean wasn’t discounting it.  
Finally unable to take it any longer, he swiftly reached over to grab the wires and pull them free from Sam's phone. Sam nearly jumped out of his skin as a heavy but slow beat filled the car.  
“What is this?” Dean instantly pulled a face.  
“It’s Hanson,” Sam scowled, checking that his earphones were still in one piece.  
“This isn’t Hanson,” Dean looked confused.  
“Yeah. It is,” Sam scorned back.  
“I know this song,” Dean kept his eyes to the road.  
“It’s a Radiohead cover.”  
Dean paused, clenching his jaw.  
“How dare they,” he muttered.  
“They’ve also done ACDC,” Sam changed the song over, now just happy to annoy his brother.  
“You turn that off.”  
“No,” Sam insisted, “you wanted to hear it, so hear it.”  
Dean muttered something under his breath as they pulled back into the street the venue was on. By the time they returned to the parking area – only getting a spot because someone else was pulling out – Dean was giving the radio odd looks.  
“What is it?” Sam asked innocently when he noticed.  
“Nothing,” Dean blew off, shutting off the car and by proxy the music.  
“Fine,” Sam chuckled, getting out, “so what are we doing, we just walk in?”  
“Garth said he’d talk to security so….” Dean indicated a burly man by the back door where Garth had entered earlier, “I guess we talk to security.”  
“Maybe if he’s here no one will get hurt tonight,” Sam suggested as they made their way over.  
“I think that’s very _Optimistic_ of you.”  
Sam just smirked, looking up in time to see that the guard had spotted them.  
“Evening!” Dean called out first, “we’re here to see a friend of ours.”  
“That right?” the guard didn’t move.  
“Garth Fitzgerald,” Sam offered, his hands going in his pockets.  
“The _Fourth_ ,” Dean added pointedly, making Sam roll his eyes.  
“The Fourth, huh?” the guard’s brow rose.  
“Yeah,” Sam frowned, wondering if they were actually going to be let in.  
“You’re lucky,” the guard reached for the door, “if you’d said Garth the Third, I’d have had to turn you away.”  
“Right…” Dean wasn’t sure if he was joking either.  
But the door opened and the brothers made their way in.  
“Head to the left and follow the signs,” the guard pointed before closing the door behind them.

“Hey guys!” Garth’s face lit up when he saw them.  
“Hey,” Dean gave him a nod as Sam looked around, “where’s Bess?”  
“She went back to the hotel, wasn’t feeling well,” Garth shrugged, “don’t worry, not for ‘that’ reason. We got here pretty early.”  
Dean eyed the door that led to the stage. The music coming through it was certainly loud.  
“How much longer?” Sam indicated it.  
“Two more songs I think and an encore of probably two,” Garth considered, “I didn’t check the set list but they’re already overtime.”  
He stood from where he’d been sitting on the arm of a couch and headed for the door, indicating for them to follow. Not seeing anyone else around that they might have wanted to check out, they shrugged to each other and followed.  
Garth took them through the door and to the side of the stage. The sight of the crowd instantly made Dean’s eyes widen. As Garth went to speak with the guitar technician Dean hit Sam in the chest.  
“What is going on here?” he frowned.  
“This is what’s called ‘a Hanson concert’,” Sam mused, having already seen plenty of online videos.  
He wasn’t sure who was who, but Dean watched in confusion as the two guitarists played off each other, one of them falling to his knees in the middle of a large riff. The drummer’s hair was flying everywhere. The bass player had a full afro and was dancing in a circle, and the singer was jumping all over the stage and prompting the crowd to do the same. And they were.  
Garth returning snapped him out of the daze.  
“He says this is the last song before encore so they’ll be offstage shortly,” he yelled to inform them.  
Sam gave him a thumbs up.  
“What is this?” Dean demanded, indicating the stage, “they’re supposed to be a boyband!”  
“Not a boyband,” Garth corrected with a roll of his eyes, heading back for the stage door.  
After another look back at the stage, the Winchesters followed.  
“Technically, they are not a boyband,” Garth explained once the door had closed and they could hear better, “besides being boys in a band, but that’s never really what that’s meant. Hanson just got lumped in with the likes of Backstreet and Westlife because the media didn’t know what else to do with them. They thought they were too young and pretty to actually be any kind of rock band.”  
“Not anymore,” Sam looked back over his shoulder.  
“And Zac’s still the youngest songwriter to be nominated for a Grammy award. He beat Michael Jackson.”  
“Who does that guy think he is?” Dean thumbed over his shoulder, “with all the hair and the jewellery and the tight... It’s like he’s trying to be Bon Jovi! Or Jagger! All he needs is the leather pants.”  
“He has those,” a small voice came from behind Garth.  
When he stepped aside they found a redheaded teenager sprawled on the couch. It took them a moment to realize he’d probably been there the whole time.  
“He doesn’t wear them much anymore, but they still fit,” he added, looking between them.  
“Who are you?” Dean frowned, instantly seeing how pale the kid was.  
Sam was also eyeing him off.  
“This is Ezra, he’s Taylor’s kid,” Garth introduced, “Taylor as in ‘Bon Jovi’. Ezra these are my friends, Sam and Dean.”  
“How old are you?” Dean’s frown only deepened.  
“How old are you?” Ezra hit back.  
“Are you okay?” Sam asked instead, “you don’t look well.”  
“He’s just tired. He hasn’t spent much time on the road before,” Garth covered for him as Ezra pulled his cap down over his face, before indicating for them to follow him to the other side of the room.  
They complied, seeing that Garth had something to tell them.  
“What’s with the kid?” Dean asked first, “is he sick?”  
“He is,” Garth admitted in a low voice, “but I’m not sure if it’s the same thing. He’s had it all day and he hasn’t gone full hospital or anything.”  
“Has he been following the tour?” Sam asked.  
“Of course, he’s Taylor’s kid,” Garth shrugged.  
“Then this has to be it,” Sam insisted, “surely whatever’s going on has something to do with him. How long has he been sick?”  
“I didn’t ask,” Garth admitted, “I didn’t want to be too obvious. But they don’t know about the whole dead body thing and Ezra rarely goes anywhere near the fans so…”  
“They don’t know?” Dean’s brow rose, “they just haven’t noticed that people are dying wherever they go?”  
“It’s a different lifestyle,” Garth shrugged, “you’re only in town for one or two nights and you move on. You don’t tend to pay attention to the local news. For you guys it’s your job to be in the know, these guys already are the news.”  
Dean rolled his eyes at that.  
“When they’re not sleeping or performing they’re doing media,” Garth saw it.  
“So if they or the crew are doing it,” Sam reasoned, “they might not even know.”  
“It doesn’t matter if they know or not, we still need to find out what’s happening and who – or what – is causing it,” Dean insisted, “are we sure they’d didn’t do some kind of joint demon deal back in the 90’s?”  
“I think the hellhounds would have well and truly come calling by now,” Sam mused, “it was 20 years ago.”  
“Really?” Dean frowned.  
“Didn’t you notice this was an anniversary tour?” Sam teased just in time for the stage door to fly open.  
The drummer came through first and Garth went to greet him.  
“Hey guys, great show!” he pulled him into a sweaty hug.  
Dean noticed his facial expression was similar to what Sam’s had been when Garth had hugged him and smirked internally.  
“Thanks.”  
“Come meet my friends real quick!”  
Dean straightened his back as Garth pulled he and the guitarist over.  
“Guys this is Sam, this is Dean… and this is Zac, Isaac, and that’s Demetrius over there.”  
A wave came from the other guitarist as he collapsed into another couch.  
“Don’t sit down, you won’t get back up again. Hi,” Zac smiled, reaching out to shake Sam’s hand.  
Sam could tell he was a little cautious, and didn’t blame him at all. He wasn’t sure if they’d actually met any of Garth’s friends outside of the werewolf pack, but he could imagine what some of them might be like.  
“Are you guys werewolves too?” Isaac asked with amusement in his eyes as he shook Dean’s hand.  
Dean’s eyes shot to Sam.  
“No silly,” Garth chuckled, “me and the Winchesters go way back. Before all that even happened.”  
“Winchester,” Zac was eyeing Sam again, “that name rings a bell.”  
“Well…”  
“They’ve been on America’s Most Wanted _so many_ times,” Garth cut in making Dean glare at the back of his head, “one time, they literally had doppelgangers of them robbing a bank and shooting people just to get them wanted by police.”  
“Not one of our fondest memories,” Dean didn’t lose the look.  
“Doppelgangers?” Zac asked, “like skin walkers?”  
“Nope something else entirely. Leviathans.”  
“Okay we need to talk later.”  
Sam meanwhile looked back to the stage door where the singer had come through, dripping with sweat. He went straight to the first couch where Ezra put his hand up and he quickly took hold of it. Sam frowned as he watched them talk quietly to each other. He couldn’t quite read what they were saying, but it seemed like more than asking if he were okay.  
“I am sure glad we’ve never had to deal with anything like that,” Isaac was shaking his head.  
“How do you people know about this stuff?” Dean wanted to keep them talking.  
“We spend a lot of time on the road,” Isaac shrugged, “we’ve seen a lot out there that we can’t explain.”  
“That’s Taylor,” Zac indicated when he saw where Sam was looking, “and our bass player Andrew.”  
Sam just nodded, still watching Taylor and Ezra’s interaction with interest.  
“Like werewolves, apparently,” Dean went on.  
“Like werewolves,” Isaac confirmed, “Garth wasn’t actually the first one we’d met, either.”  
“We need to get back out there,” Zac gave Isaac a pat on the shoulder before nodding to the Winchesters.  
“Right. Will you guys be here after?” Isaac looked between them, “I’d love to talk more about this. It’s rare to find someone in the know.”  
“I’m sure we’ll be around,” Dean assured with a forced smile.  
“Great,” Isaac smiled back before following Zac.  
Being the last one through, he grabbed Taylor’s shirt on the way. He finally let go of his son’s hand and followed the band back out.  
“I need some air,” Dean announced, heading for the back door.  
Garth didn’t follow, so Sam decided that he’d better.

“What is it?” Sam asked once they were out of earshot of the security guard.  
“There’s definitely something going on in there,” Dean rubbed his face, “did you feel it?”  
“Feel what?” Sam shrugged.  
“I don’t know,” Deans eyes were darting.  
“Dean that doesn’t help.”  
“I know!” Dean scowled, obviously frustrated with being unable to explain himself.  
He paused when he saw lights flashing in the street. Without waiting for Sam, he bolted for the front of the venue. When Sam caught up he instantly saw the ambulance at the front of the building.  
“We missed something,” he realized.  
“Yeah no kidding.”


	6. Five: The Second Opinion

“If Garth was with them all day, when would they have had a chance to do anything?” Sam was confused.  
Dean was staring at the tour bus up ahead, not willing to let it out of his sight.  
“And it didn’t look like Ezra left the couch the entire time,” Sam added.  
“Doesn’t mean he didn’t,” Dean mumbled.  
“Honestly it didn’t look like he was able to,” Sam pulled a face, “maybe he’s going to be the next one in hospital?”  
“So maybe it happened during the show, we only got there at the end,” Dean’s voice rose slightly.  
He was annoyed that they couldn’t stay back and interview the girl’s friends like they usually would, instead opting to follow the tour bus for fear of something happening on the road to Philadelphia. Garth had offered to instead but they were yet to hear back from him.  
They drove on in silence, making sure to stay a few paces back from the bus. The bus hadn’t stopped for fuel before leaving so Dean was sure they’d need to pull over soon. Sure enough, they had to within a half hour.  
Dean pulled the Impala to a halt a way back from the bus, trying not to be obvious. While they were both tempted to go in and get supplies for the road they opted to wait and see what would happen. Almost as soon as they started refuelling, three people left the bus; Isaac, Taylor and Ezra.  
“That’s weird,” Dean said aloud what they were both thinking, as Ezra sprightly ran for the doors.  
Both Isaac and his father followed a little slower, Taylor practically dragging his feet.  
“Something’s happened in the last…” Dean checked his watch, “two hours. That kid was barely moving when he got on that bus.”  
“Yeah, I saw,” Sam confirmed.  
“So how does it work?” Dean’s eyes narrowed, “are they doing some mambo jumbo to stop the kid getting sicker? Could it be voodoo? I mean who knows what kind of lore they’ve come across on the road.”  
“I don’t know,” Sam now shared that worry.  
“Otherwise why just the kid? Why not the Dad or the Uncles or the roadies?”  
“I don’t know. But we need to find out.”  
“We should go talk to them now and find out what the hell’s going on,” Dean’s hand lowered to the door handle, “catch them when they can’t deny the kid looks healthy.”  
“Why are you watching the Hansons?”  
Dean nearly jumped out of his skin as Sam turned to look over his shoulder. Castiel was looking between them from the back seat, confused.  
“We’re on a case,” Sam answered quickly as Dean rubbed his face, “how’s the hunt going?”  
“We are still unable to find Lucifer. But word has it that he has returned to Earth and taken another host body.”  
“Should we be worried?” Dean’s brow furrowed, “because we can drop this case and be on it right now.”  
“We should probably be more worried about him coming to us,” Sam’s voice lowered.  
“I wouldn’t worry too much,” Castiel shook his head, “the word is he’s laying low, regenerating his energies. He took a beating in Los Angeles and will need time to recuperate. I don’t doubt that he will burn through this first body a lot faster than he did Vince Vincente’s.”  
“He’s going to run out of vessels,” Dean smirked.  
“On the contrary there are more being born every day,” Castiel corrected, “Joshua is currently working out a way for us to track those humans with vessel blood and narrow a search down to the strongest which will give us a better idea of where Lucifer may find his next targets. Not many in the bloodline are strong enough to hold him.”  
“Well we knew that,” Dean’s eyes went back to where Isaac was emerging from the store alone, carrying two bags with him back to the bus.  
“Yeah lucky us,” Sam sighed to himself.  
Castiel paused a moment, also watching where Taylor and Ezra were emerging.  
“The Hansons are good people,” he suddenly said, “why are you investigating them?”  
“What do you mean?” Dean turned to him with a frown.  
“They are very religious. They pray often,” Castiel elaborated, “they try to do no harm.”  
“Well they might be,” Sam cautioned, “it’s why we’re here. People around them are dying.”  
Castiel frowned before suddenly looking to the right.  
“There’s some kind of sickness going- Cas?” Dean became wary when he noticed.  
“I have to go,” he was obviously hearing something they weren’t, “but I’m sure whatever is going on isn’t related to the Hansons. They are good vampires.”  
With that, he disappeared. The brothers locked eyes as they heard the tour bus starting.  
“Did he say…?”  
“He said vamps,” Dean confirmed.  
“No way,” Sam leant back in his seat as Dean quickly started the Impala as the bus pulled out.  
“Those bodies weren’t drained of blood,” Dean pulled onto the road behind them, “and I remember asking one of the Docs if there were any marks.”  
“They must have missed something,” Sam shook his head, “but they all said the victims were ‘drained’, and I remember one of them saying a girl needed at least three blood transfusions.”  
“No wonder they got a job where they stay out all night,” Dean muttered under his breath, “so what do we do now?”

They’d been sitting inside the Impala outside the hotel the tour bus had stopped at for about an hour before Dean’s cell phone rang. The sun was already well and truly up as he leant over to show Sam the caller ID.  
“Garth,” Sam frowned, having forgotten that he was even going to call, “what are you going to tell him?”  
“Nothing, he might not even know they’ve turned,” Dean said before answering, “this is Dean.”  
“Hey Dean! Sorry it took so long. I spent the night at the hospital and I fell asleep in the janitor’s closet and I just got woken up by a nurse.”  
“In the… why were you in the closet?”  
“I was so tired I thought it was the exit and then I just kinda gave in to what nature intended and slept in there.”  
Dean rolled his eyes.  
“So the lady I spoke to was best friends with the vic, and she spent the whole day with her like the _whole_ day. She didn’t notice anything out of place. They didn’t meet with the band before or after the show because they were too busy camping out for front row.”  
“She had front row?” Dean’s brow rose, “so she was close to the band all night.”  
“I guess technically.”  
“Did any of them touch her?”  
“I guess? Usually if you’re front row the guys will touch your hand or something.”  
“Do they ever jump into the crowd?”  
“At the end of the night, sure. But there’s usually a barrier.”  
Dean looked across to Sam who was waiting patiently for the details.  
“Thanks Garth.”  
“I really think this one is a dead end, guys. I mean the only person even related to the band that’s sick is Ezra and-“  
“Thanks Garth,” Dean repeated before hanging up on him, “victim was front row at the show last night.”  
“How could she have been attacked without anyone noticing?” Sam frowned.  
“From what I saw? Pretty easily,” Dean’s eyes went back to the bus, “the crowd was insane. I wouldn’t be surprised if they’d gotten away with outright murder.”  
“Maybe they have already,” Sam reasoned.  
“Maybe.”

The bus had made its way to The Fillmore in the early afternoon, and the Impala had shadowed it the whole way. The brothers had opted to sleep away the morning in favor of hopefully catching the band off guard that night. Not wanting to alert the media right away they knew any action they took would have to be after the concert, but they were already concerned about missing another attack in the meantime and had gone to the length of trying to find scalpers selling tickets. They’d had no luck. Their options were now limited to stalking the band before and after the show.  
Sam had been scouring some local news sites on his phone as they sat in the car when he suddenly cleared his throat.  
“Local journalist Sara Andrews was rushed to hospital after her morning broadcast today when her cameraman Joseph Snider found her passed out in their employee lounge,” his brow rose, “her symptoms point to exhaustion from being overworked and the NBC has granted her immediate paid leave to recuperate.”  
“Journalist?” Dean frowned.  
“Guess who she was interviewing this morning,” Sam showed him the phone screen which had a photo of the woman with the Hanson brothers.  
“No way,” Dean shook his head.  
“We missed another one,” Sam confirmed, “they’re certainly getting around.”  
“We didn’t even see them leave the hotel this morning,” Dean scowled.  
“We were asleep,” Sam shrugged, “they must have left and come back.”  
Dean looked up at where the bus was still in their sights. The crew had been back and forth for a while now and Ezra once again looked fine to them.  
“Well they’re not leaving tonight,” he insisted.  
“We can’t take on all of them,” Sam cautioned.  
“Since when has a vamp nest ever gotten us worried?” Dean scorned.  
“This is no ordinary case and you know it,” Sam hit back, “we’re going to be lucky to not have witnesses at all. We need to take this one as it comes and not do anything stupid.”  
“Since when?” Dean scoffed again.  
Sam rolled his eyes, watching as Isaac came back to the bus to fetch a guitar.  
“Something doesn’t feel right about this,” he shook his head.  
“Garth will get over it.”  
“He’s not going to like it, that’s for sure.”  
“Well he should have done his research.”  
Sam sighed to himself as Dean leant back into the seat, running his fingers along the blade of the machete in his lap. They’d already had time to sharpen them and were well and truly into the waiting game.  
Dean was getting antsy.

After the concert they were surprised when the band didn’t hang around. Instead, as soon as the bus was loaded, it took off down the road leaving a large group of unhappy fans behind.  
“That’s weird right?” Sam frowned as Dean started the Impala.  
“Who knows?” Dean grunted in reply, pulling the Impala out onto the road.  
Just like the day before, the tour bus pulled into a truck stop after an hour or so on the road. This time Dean pulled the Impala into the parking area and they got out to load up from the trunk. Both armed themselves with machetes, Dean grabbed a vial of dead man’s blood, Sam grabbed a silver chain and a burlap sack.  
“In and out quick,” Dean ordered, “we grab whoever’s in line first.”  
“They won’t leave without anyone. I think we’re good,” Sam agreed.  
“And keep your heartbeat steady. These suckers can hear everything and we don’t need them picking up on anything before it happens.”  
From the car they heard multiple footsteps heading into the store, and once Dean was ready he followed them inside. Sam closed the trunk and followed, aiming to lurk back close to the door. The first person Dean spotted was Taylor, helping Ezra pick out some drinks from the fridge.  
“You following us or something?”  
Dean turned with a raised brow to see Zac standing behind him with an armful of jerky and sodas.  
“Garth’s friends, right?” he mused.  
“Right,” Dean confirmed, giving him a quick once over.  
He had muscle, but he was sure he could take him.  
“So…?”  
“Road trip,” Dean quickly covered, “on our way up to Boston. Just grabbing some snacks for the road.”  
Zac nodded, but gave him the side eye.  
“Weird,” he said aloud.  
Dean just shrugged.  
“Have fun on your trip I guess,” Zac smirked before heading to the counter to pay.  
“Yeah you too,” Dean muttered once he was gone, looking back for where he’d last seen Taylor.  
He awkwardly made eye contact and realized that Taylor had been watching him. Taylor only broke it off when Ezra asked him something.  
“Creepy,” Dean muttered, looking back for Sam.  
Sam gave him a nod and went back to pretending to pick out a magazine. Zac soon paid and made his way out as Taylor and his son made it to the counter. Seeing what Sam was planning to do, Dean followed Zac outside.  
Once Taylor had paid and he and Ezra headed for the door, Sam made his move. He made sure Ezra had gone through before bumping headfirst into Taylor.  
“Sorry!” Sam quickly apologized as Taylor took a moment to realize what had happened.  
After a look of recognition crossed his face, he looked across to his son.  
“Taylor, right?” Sam tried to keep him occupied.  
“Go back to the bus,” Taylor told Ezra.  
Ezra looked up at Sam before quickly leaving. Sam frowned a little at the urgency, but he now had what he wanted.  
“Road trip, huh?” Taylor indicated where Dean had already gone outside, “I noticed you happened to go through Philadelphia.”  
“You did?” Sam’s eyes narrowed.  
“So what’s your deal? And just so you know… a friend of Garth’s isn’t necessarily a friend of ours.”  
Sam was a little taken aback, not expecting him to be so upfront. Taylor stared him down as he waited for an answer. Sam couldn’t help but notice his height at this point.  
“Just passing through,” Sam tried to blow it off.  
Taylor leant into him, not losing eye contact.  
“Bullshit,” he said under his breath, “but I don’t care. Just stay away from my kid.”  
Sam frowned as Taylor turned to leave, quickly making sure Ezra was out of sight before following him.  
Dean was ready. Once Taylor was at the corner he aimed a low punch for his gut, Sam quickly using the sack to cover his head and keep his teeth in check. Before he could recover enough to fight back, Dean hit him in the back with a Taser and he went down.  
“We gotta be quick,” Sam insisted as Dean pulled out the blood-filled syringe and dug it into Taylor’s neck.  
“This should be enough to keep him out for a while,” he assured as Sam quickly bound the musician’s hands with the silver chain.  
The two loaded his body into the trunk of the Impala, Dean pausing once the trunk was closed.  
“Bon Jovi it is,” he grinned triumphantly.


	7. Six: The Interrogation

Taylor’s breathing heavied as he came to. Not expecting him to be awake yet, Dean jumped up to pull the sack from his head. Taylor jolted at the sudden movement and struggled to focus his eyes.  
“Wakey wakey, eggs and bakey!” Dean announced, sitting on the table in front of him.  
Taylor pulled on his wrists which he quickly found were bound to the arms of the chair with silver chain. He’d barely noticed the machete sitting in front of Dean before jumping when he realized Sam was moving behind him.  
“What’s going on?” he looked between them warily, hoping that it was just some kind of nightmare.  
The churning of his stomach told him otherwise.  
“If this is about the truck stop this is going a little too far, don’t you think?”  
“I think you know what’s going on,” Sam came to stand at the other side of the table.  
“Does Garth know?” Dean demanded.  
“Know what?” Taylor frowned.  
“That you’ve been on the human sauce?”  
“The _what_?”  
“When were you turned?” Sam demanded.  
“Turned?!” his brow furrowed, “…you think I’m a vampire?”  
“We don’t think, we know,” Dean corrected, “and you’re gonna start talking.”  
“We might be able to help you,” Sam leant against the table, “if Ezra hasn’t taken human blood yet we can cure him. It’s not too late to save him.”  
“He has never taken human blood, and neither have I,” Taylor insisted, “we’re not vampires!”  
Dean scoffed and folded his arms. It was going to be a long night.  
“Why would you even think that we were?! Just because we hang with werewolves doesn’t mean we aren’t human!”  
“We got our sources, and they’re more reliable than you,” Dean scorned, “not to mention we’ve been following a pile of dead bodies up the east side of the country.”  
“What bodies?” Taylor looked clueless.  
“Everywhere you’ve been, every stop on your tour, a fan somewhere has ended up in hospital,” Sam explained, “you’re not doing a great job of covering your tracks.”  
“Were they bitten by vampires?” Taylor tried to understand.  
“You didn’t know?” Sam frowned, “how could you not notice?”  
“We’ve been busy, we’re on tour,” Taylor defended, “and I’ve never killed anyone. None of us have!”  
“See the problem with that is…” Dean leant over to pick up the machete, “you’re the one thing connecting all the victims. You personally, that is. Not even the band.”  
“I’ve met a lot of people in the last couple of weeks,” Taylor shook his head, eyes on the blade.  
“Not just ‘met’ as it turns out,” Dean mused, “I’m pretty sure once we take you out of the equation the bodies will stop dropping.”  
“So what, you’re going to cut my head off?” Taylor was afraid to ask.  
“It’s the only way to kill you. Well, not the _only_ way…” Dean considered, “but the easiest right now.”  
“But that would kill anyone!” Taylor’s voice rose, “how am I supposed to prove that I am not a vampire?!”  
“Dean,” Sam gave his brother a nod, indicating for him to step aside.  
Dean rolled his eyes but followed him. He looked back at where Taylor was trying to look over his shoulder, not trusting Dean considering he still had hold of the weapon.  
“Is it possible he doesn’t know?” Sam suggested in a low tone.  
“No way,” Dean scoffed, “we’ve met vamps who didn’t know. They were raving high on the juice. This guy knows.”  
“Something’s off,” Sam shook his head, “he’s not itching for a feed.”  
“I can soon change that,” Dean assured, going back to Taylor’s side.  
He pointedly rolled up his sleeve before cutting across his arm. Taylor did nothing but grimace.  
“Not taking your fancy?” Dean wasn’t impressed.  
“Come on,” Taylor turned away, “you’re hurting yourself for nothing. This is insane!”  
“Not for nothing,” Sam insisted, coming back.  
“I’ve been kidnapped by psychopaths.”  
“How are those stage lights feeling lately?” Dean wasn’t giving in, “you’re hearing our heartbeats aren’t you? Can’t go out in sunlight?”  
“I was out in the sun this morning!” Taylor defended, “we had a morning show interview, it was outdoors! Look up channel - what was it - channel 6! NBC!”  
“We know. The reporter’s in hospital,” Sam confirmed.  
“What?” Taylor looked up at him in surprise.  
“Like we said, you seem to have that effect on people,” Sam shrugged.  
“How?” Taylor was at a loss, “how could I possibly?”  
“Because you’re not human!”  
“Dean, wait a minute,” Sam held back from actually pushing his brother backward, “maybe this isn’t as cut and dry as we think it is.”  
“Cas said they were vamps,” Dean was getting annoyed, “since when has he been wrong?!”  
“Do I really have to bring up the leviathans?” Sam’s brow rose.  
Dean scowled at that, wrapping a rag around his wound and pulling his sleeve down again. Taylor sat in silence to listen to the byplay, starting to feel the sweat beading on his forehead. He wasn’t sure how much longer he’d be able to stop himself throwing up.  
“All I’m saying is, we need to be sure,” Sam went on, “there’s still a possibility that this is some kind of curse.”  
“You know what I’m thinking?” Dean turned back, “I’m thinking Cas said ‘Hansons’. He didn’t say which. Maybe we picked the wrong one.”  
“None of us are vampires!”  
“Shut up!” Dean ordered.  
“You think it’s only the kid?” Sam asked.  
“Hansons. Plural,” Dean corrected, “either way they got one hell of a family secret they’re keeping.”  
“We don’t have a secret anything!”  
“I said _shut up_!”  
“Wait, there is one way to prove this, once and for all,” Sam insisted as he moved to Taylor’s side, “check him for fangs.”  
“Yes!” Taylor immediately jumped on, “check away, I don’t have any!”  
Dean paused at Taylor’s eagerness for him to get close to his teeth.  
“And vampires are dead, right?” Taylor’s brow rose, “so feel my heartbeat! Because I have one, and it’s racing like hell right now.”  
“Hold him,” Dean insisted, prompting Sam to take hold of his hair and chin.  
Taylor took deep breaths as the older Winchester began his inspection. He kept the machete handy just in case as he pulled Taylor’s lip upward. He prodded around the gum above the canine, his frown only deepening.  
“Dean?” Sam’s brow rose expectantly.  
“There’s nothing here,” Dean gave up and turned away.  
“See?” Taylor’s heart was racing again, “whatever’s going on has nothing to do with me or mine. Now you gotta let me go.”  
“Whatever’s going on still has something to do with you,” Dean glared back as he took a seat on the table again.  
Sam quickly let Taylor’s head go, wiping his hands off on his jacket.  
“And we still need to find out what and why,” Dean’s eyes moved to him.  
“How?” Sam asked, “he’s obviously clueless.”  
“I am, I swear,” Taylor tried to reassure.  
“Okay what if,” Dean was already struggling to put it together, “what if this is something or someone following the band? They’re obviously going wherever these guys go, so interrupting the tour is going to throw them off the hunt regardless.”  
“What do you mean ‘interrupt the tour’?” Taylor demanded right away.  
“You mean a fan? Or do you still think it’s the crew?” Sam tried to understand.  
Dean just shrugged.  
“This is still the part where you let me go, right?” Taylor looked between them.  
“Sit tight, you’re not going anywhere,” Dean gave him a smile.  
Taylor looked to Sam for confirmation. He didn’t offer anything.  
“Great,” he muttered, leaning back in the chair.

It had been quiet for a long time when Dean’s phone rang. Taylor’s body had started to shiver but he wasn’t sure why. He was still sweating despite the cold, and the nausea was only getting worse.  
“It’s Garth,” Dean winced before answering the call.  
Sam stifled a yawn before looking up as he heard Garth’s voice come through.  
“Dean, I just got off the phone with Zac… Where is Taylor?”  
“He’s right here,” Dean admitted openly.  
Taylor also looked up at that.  
“Uh… okay. Where is ‘here’?”  
“Don’t take this the wrong way but I’m not going to tell you.”  
“Dean! Whatever’s going on, it’s nothing to do with the Hanson brothers! You’ve got it wrong!”  
“Have we really?” Dean’s eyes narrowed, “look at the evidence, Garth! Everything points to them. Are we supposed to just let them keep killing?”  
Taylor groaned and Sam eyed him. He had to admit he didn’t look good. He was almost starting to look like Ezra had in Pittsburgh and it had Sam on edge.  
“Just tell me where you are and I can come help straighten this out.”  
“Straighten what out?” Dean was honestly curious.  
“Look, I just spoke to the victim. The only contact she had with _any_ Hanson was touching Taylor’s hand during the concert. Nothing could have happened!”  
“Does that not seem weird to you?” Dean scorned, “how come this guy is the only thing connecting all the vics? Can you answer that?!”  
“I can’t,” Garth admitted as Taylor groaned again, “but I’m trying to work on it without jumping to any unreasonable conclusions.”  
“Unreasonable?!”  
“What’s wrong with you?” Sam frowned, moving around in front of their captive.  
“I don’t know,” Taylor admitted with obvious worry.  
He closed his eyes as Dean continued to argue in the background.  
“Is this what your son had?” Sam’s brow furrowed, “if you tell us what’s going on with you, we can help you.”  
“You can help by letting me go,” Taylor looked up through pained eyes, “I need to get back to him.”  
“Why?”  
Taylor looked across at Dean.  
“He’s alone. His mother’s not on tour with us,” he admitted, “I need to look out for him.”  
“How? You don’t look like you’d be much help to anyone right now,” Sam pointed out.  
“That’s because he’s been poisoned.”  
Sam jumped as Castiel appeared behind him. Taylor closed his eyes again, worried that he was hallucinating.  
“I gotta go,” Dean ended the call with Garth.  
“Poisoned?” Sam stood back as Castiel looked Taylor over, “are you sure?”  
“Dead man’s blood isn’t meant for humans,” Castiel stepped forward and placed a finger against Taylor’s forehead.  
He convulsed a moment as Castiel very suddenly and forcefully healed him.  
“Humans?” Dean made his way back, “he’s a Hanson. You said the Hansons were vamps.”  
Taylor took a few seconds to get his bearings, before jumping again as he registered Castiel’s presence.  
“They’re not that kind of vampire,” Castiel stared him down.  
“What are you?” Taylor had been left breathless and confused.


	8. Seven: The Interruption

“What are you?” Dean demanded.  
“Him first,” Taylor was still staring at Castiel, “what did you do to me?”  
“I healed you,” Castiel replied, “you can stop taking from them now.”  
Taylor eyed Dean before looking back.  
“Are they going to let me go?” he checked first.  
“Taking what?” Sam frowned, “what’s going on here?”  
“Jordan is something much older than your conventional vampire,” Castiel began to explain, a worried look crossing Taylor’s face, “he is what they call a ‘psychic vampire’. A human with vampiric ability. They feed on souls for energy, but never enough to physically harm their victims. There are many walking among you.”  
“I thought your name was Taylor?” Dean looked between he and Sam.  
“Taylor’s his middle name. They feed on souls?” Sam’s brow rose.  
“Psychic energies. It’s the reason you both feel tired right now. He was trying to heal himself,” Castiel explained.  
Dean was already glaring while Sam took a moment to realize that he actually did feel tired.  
“You didn’t feel like that was worth mentioning?!” Dean demanded.  
“Not when you have a knife to my throat and are yelling about me supposedly killing people, no,” Taylor admitted.  
Dean’s grip tightened on the machete and Taylor noticed. He was sure he was itching to use it.  
“Like I said, psychic vampires usually can’t physically harm their victims,” Castiel went on, “they just syphon enough energy to keep themselves going and move on. Usually from multiple people at a time so that it’s less noticeable. From a crowd the most anyone would feel affected would be similar to symptoms of a common cold. Most of these people don’t even know they are vampires. It’s rare to come across one who knows how to control it.”  
“Taking energy from people actually sounds like the way the victims are dying,” Sam pointed out, “most of the doctors we spoke to said the victims were drained - they were showing signs of malnutrition for example despite having full stomachs.”  
Castiel was still staring down at Taylor, whose heart was picking up pace again.  
“Cas?” Sam coaxed as Dean rubbed his face again.  
“Your energy is off the charts,” Taylor couldn’t hold it in any longer, “what _are_ you?”  
“I’m an angel of the Lord,” Castiel relented.  
“…Okay,” Taylor’s face immediately paled.  
“Cas what is it?” Sam was picking up on something that Dean hadn’t yet.  
“I detected the remnants of a sickness as I healed him from the poisoning,” Castiel revealed, “it was very old. One I haven’t heard of in millennia.”  
Taylor frowned at that as Dean stepped closer.  
“What kind of disease?” he asked.  
“It was very faint so I am not all that sure. I need to research this myself,” Castiel admitted, looking between the brothers, “don’t go anywhere.”  
He disappeared in front of them, making Taylor nearly jump out of his skin.  
“Holy crap,” he caught his breath.  
“Did you know you were sick?” Dean eyed him.  
“I didn’t think I was,” Taylor admitted.  
“Maybe he’s passing it on somehow,” Sam tried to think, “how does it work?”  
“How does what work?” Taylor asked.  
“How do you take the energy or whatever?” Dean coaxed.  
“I don’t know I just do,” Taylor shrugged, “it’s always just happened.”  
“You can’t turn it off?” Sam tried to understand.  
“I’ve never had to,” Taylor insisted, “can’t you at least untie me now? I’m not a vampire!”  
“When the angel says stay, we stay,” Dean lay down the law, “you wouldn’t like him when he’s angry.”  
“I can stay here without being tied down,” Taylor insisted, “you think I’ll run with the two of you guarding the door?”  
“How about we just take the possibility off the table altogether and you stay where you are,” Dean pointed out.  
Taylor grit his teeth, knowing already that he wouldn’t win the argument.

Castiel was back within the hour. Taylor sat up straight when he appeared, holding a vain hope that it might mean his release.  
“What did you find?” Dean raised a brow, not moving from his spot on the table.  
“Not a lot,” Castiel admitted, “no one’s seen this particular strain since Tutankhamun was in power.”  
“It’s Egyptian?” Sam stood up.  
“It began with an especially spiritual tribe in central Africa. An area now known as South Sudan, I believe,” Castiel explained, “many curses came from this particular tribe before they were wiped out. Most of them died out as their people did. Only a few have made it to the modern day.”  
“And this is one of them?” Dean looked confused, “how did it get here?”  
“Where have you travelled in the last six months?” Castiel looked down at Taylor.  
“Not Africa,” he assured, “but Europe, Australia, South America…”  
“Pretty much everywhere,” Dean drawled.  
“That doesn’t narrow it down,” Castiel looked thoughtful.  
“No it does not.”  
“Is it something he could have picked up from a cursed object? Or from being in a specific area?” Sam suggested.  
“No. It takes person to person contact,” Castiel corrected.  
“Wait,” something inside Taylor clicked, “is this what you think those girls died from?”  
“It might be,” Castiel confirmed, “it affects those without your abilities vastly different to how it affects those with.”  
“You could have passed it on without realizing,” Dean realized himself.  
Taylor’s face went red as he started to put it together.  
“Is there a way to know for sure? Is there a way to test the survivors?” Sam asked.  
“Not all of us have this ability,” Taylor cut in, officially looking worried now, “why aren’t those of us that are ‘normal’ getting sick?”  
“Do you use your abilities on your family? Or your crew?” Castiel checked.  
“No they’re always exhausted already,” Taylor admitted, “so it’s only if I use it?”  
“It looks that way,” Castiel nodded and Taylor winced.  
“Either way,” Dean set the machete aside and pulled his handgun instead, “we’ve found the problem.”  
“Whoa whoa wait,” Sam held out a hand to stop him, “we’re just finding out about this, so how do we know this is over?”  
“He has been cured,” Castiel assured before Dean could make a move, “the disease is easily removed once it has been identified.”  
“You cured him?” Dean frowned.  
“Thank God,” Taylor took a breath.  
“How do we stop this from happening again?” Sam tried to get back on track, “we need to find out where this came from, and make sure no other… psychic vampires, or humans, pick it up again.”  
“I might know where it came from,” Taylor admitted suddenly.  
“Where?” Dean demanded.  
“Unlock the chains and I’ll tell you,” Taylor gave him an ultimatum.  
Dean armed the gun instead.  
“Dean,” Sam scorned.  
At Dean’s hesitation, Sam sighed.  
“Tell us and we’ll let you go,” he promised.  
“What?” his brother scowled.  
“We have no reason to hold him,” Sam shot him a look, “and he’s not the first person in this room to hurt people without knowing it.”  
Taylor looked wary at that, but soon realized they were waiting for a response.  
“In Europe,” he relented, “I could tell this woman I met had the same ability as I have. I remember her telling us she worked in a museum somewhere.”  
“That’s it?” Sam had been expecting more.  
“It’s all I’ve got,” Taylor shrugged, “she mentioned travel. Maybe she travelled to Africa on research?”  
“Do you remember the woman’s name?” Castiel asked.  
“No, sorry,” Taylor admitted, “I’m not sure I knew it to begin with.”  
“Can you find her?” Dean set his sights on Castiel.  
“I can try, but it may take a while,” Castiel warned, “I’ll start now.”  
“Wait! I have to get out of here!” Taylor leant forward, “I have to be in New York by morning for media or a lot of people are going to be asking a lot of questions. Tell them to let me go!”  
“You have no reason to hold him,” Castiel directed at Dean, “he is cured of the disease and can no longer pass it along.”  
With that, Castiel disappeared again. Taylor took a moment to process his absence before looking to Dean.  
“You heard him,” Sam shrugged.  
“Fine,” Dean scowled, putting the gun away again and retrieving keys from his pocket.  
He came over to the chair and quickly unlocked the chains. Taylor cradled his wrists, waiting for Dean to move aside so he could actually get up. When he didn’t, he flinched when he realized the Winchester was staring him down.  
“We’ll be watching you,” Dean warned, “don’t try anything.”  
“Like what?” Taylor was confused all over again.  
“Just let him go,” Sam was tired and done for the night.  
Dean moved aside and Taylor finally stood up. Without another word he headed for the door.


	9. Eight: The Other Side

“Are you sure they never said anything?” Zac’s eyes were drooping but his voice was forceful.  
“Not about where they were, more about being sure Taylor was responsible for these deaths,” Garth sounded worried.  
“So what are they going to do?!”  
He jumped as the bus door flew open and looked up to see Taylor climbing in.  
“I gotta go, he’s back,” Zac quickly hung up before getting off the couch, “where have you been?!”  
Taylor had locked the door behind himself before ignoring him as he went to the window to check outside.  
“Tay?!”  
He couldn’t see anyone from the window, but that didn’t mean the Winchesters weren’t out there.  
“Garth said those guys from the truck stop probably grabbed you,” Zac went on, realizing he wasn’t getting a response, “is that true?”  
“Yeah.”  
“Right, so…?”  
Taylor closed the blinds and quickly made his way through to the bunks. He stopped when he saw Ezra asleep in his. Finally knowing he was safe, he breathed a sigh of relief.  
He nearly jumped out of his skin when Zac put a hand on his shoulder.  
“We need to leave,” Taylor insisted.  
“You’re right,” Zac agreed, “but we also need to talk. Like _right now_.”  
“We need to leave first!”  
Taylor quickly double checked that everyone who was meant to be on the bus was, while Zac relented and went to tell the driver that they should go. Once the bus was moving they met back in the living area.  
“So what’s going on, and should we be worried?” Zac didn’t bother taking a seat, leaning against one of the cabinets instead.  
“I don’t know,” Taylor shook his head, staring blankly ahead, “I’ve gone full Rogue.”  
“Rogue?” Zac was confused.  
“Not in the literal sense of the word,” he quickly established, “like Marie from the X-Men. That kind of Rogue.”  
“You’ve lost me,” Zac admitted.  
Taylor nervously rubbed his lap, looking up and down the bus to make sure everyone was definitely still asleep. Zac could see him shaking.  
“I killed those girls,” Taylor’s voice broke as he looked up again.  
“You can’t have killed those girls,” Zac insisted, “it’s impossible. Especially without even knowing!”  
“Apparently I was sick,” Taylor quickly countered, “and whatever I passed onto them wasn’t something their bodies could handle.”  
His eyes visibly began to well up.  
“How am I supposed to live with that?” he shook his head.  
Zac checked over his shoulder before taking a seat beside him.  
“Were they sure?” he asked tentatively.  
“Yeah,” Taylor rubbed his face, “pretty sure.”  
They sat in silence for a moment before Taylor tilted his head.  
“How did you know?” he eyed his brother warily.  
“Garth called. Well he called me back,” Zac corrected himself, “when you didn’t show and we’d run into those guys I kinda put two and two together. I didn’t get why they’d be after you.”  
“Me either at first,” Taylor shrugged, “but now… how could I not even know I was doing it? How did I not notice those girls were being so affected?”  
“You were worried, you might not have paid as much attention as usual,” Zac offered.  
“And it cost lives.”  
He shook his head, biting his lip as his mind raced.  
“I have to stop, that’s all there is to it,” he decided.  
“I didn’t think you could?” Zac frowned.  
“I have to try. I can’t let this happen again.”  
“What about Ezra?”  
Taylor looked back toward the bunks.  
“We have to think of something,” he was obviously worried, “maybe Ike needs to take over.”

“What do you think they’re going to do?” Sam looked across at Dean as they sat in the Impala.  
They’d waited as the bus had pulled out onto the highway before subtly following again.  
“Carry on,” Dean shrugged, “I’m not gonna be surprised if another body drops in New York.”  
“You think it will?” Sam was surprised, “even after Cas-?”  
“Cas has been wrong before.”  
Sam smirked, knowing it wasn’t worth the argument. He settled in for the short drive to the Big Apple.

Taylor waited as long as he could hold out, but he still woke Isaac up early. They had another hour before they’d have to start getting ready for an interview.  
“What is it?” Isaac rubbed at his eyes, not moving from his bunk, “wait, you’re back?!”  
“Yeah it’s nice to know you couldn’t sleep while I was missing,” Taylor smirked, “we have to talk.”  
“Is it to do with those guys from Pittsburgh?”  
“Yeah it is.”  
Taylor stood back as Isaac pulled himself from the bunk, careful not to wake anyone else in the process. Taylor led him back toward the living area before handing his elder brother some ready-made coffee.  
“Thanks,” Isaac took a seat with it, “so what’s wrong?”  
“Apparently I had some kind of disease or virus,” Taylor had taken a seat opposite, “something that transmits through people like me, and… I’ve managed to pass it on to some of the people I was taking from, and it killed them.”  
Isaac froze, staring. He was still mostly asleep but he was well and truly paying attention.  
“So Garth was right,” he said to himself.  
“What did Garth say?” Taylor frowned.  
“That there was a trail of dead folk following the tour,” Isaac shrugged, “I didn’t want to believe it, but Zac did.”  
Taylor nodded, wondering why Zac hadn’t elaborated earlier.  
“So it’s true that we’re responsible? How did they even know?”  
“Those guys weren’t alone, and their friend worked it out,” Taylor didn’t want to mention the word ‘angel’ just in case he’d been lied to, “the evidence was pretty convincing.”  
“So they’re saying you had the sickness,” Isaac tried to get right, “does that mean I have it?”  
“I don’t know,” Taylor shrugged, “do you feel sick?”  
“No. Just sleep-deprived.”  
“Which is normal for us,” Taylor thought aloud, “hopefully it’ll stay contained.”  
“But you didn’t seem sick either, so… how did people _die_ from this?”  
“Because it’s something to do with our ability and that they weren’t strong enough to fight it, I think,” Taylor winced, unsure, “maybe it only affects people without it and we’re just the carriers?”  
“That doesn’t explain Ezra,” Isaac looked back toward the bunks.  
“I know,” Taylor started biting his nails, “so I woke you up to ask… do you mind taking over for a while? Until we know for sure?”  
“Consider it done,” Isaac agreed, “glad to help.”  
“Thanks.”  
“Dad?” a croaky voice came from the bunks, making Taylor shoot to his feet.  
He made his way to Ezra’s side, trying not to visibly react when he saw how pale his son had gone overnight.  
“I don’t feel good,” Ezra held out his hand.  
Taylor immediately took it, kneeling down so that he was at eye level.  
“I don’t have much to give you right now,” he admitted, “but take whatever you need.”  
“Dad?”  
“I’ll be fine,” he gave him a reassuring smile, already feeling his energy start to deplete.  
It didn’t help that he hadn’t slept since the afternoon before. The bus was quiet as they took their time, with only light snoring heard from a couple of the bunks. Taylor didn’t even hear Isaac’s footsteps as he came up behind him and put a hand on his shoulder.  
He instantly felt the energy boost and immediately sent that across to Ezra as well.  
“Don’t forget we need you in one piece for this interview,” Isaac reminded him softly, “don’t go overboard. I’ll figure something out after breakfast.”  
“Okay,” Taylor nodded in response before Isaac took his hand away.  
When he looked back Ezra had regained some color, so he let go of his hand as well.  
“How long will this go on for?” Ezra still looked tired as he rolled onto his side.  
“I’m not sure,” Taylor was honest, “we just have to keep on keeping on, and hope the fever breaks.”  
He reached over to put a hand on Ezra’s forehead. He was still hot, but not as bad as he had been in the past.  
“Stay on the bus today, okay?” he insisted, more worried about what might happen if the Winchesters were still following them than anything else, “get some rest and I’ll bring you something to eat.”  
“Okay.”  
Taylor offered him another smile before moving to get out of the way as Demetrius made his way down from his bunk. But as he went to stand up he lost his balance.  
“Whoa!” Demetrius grabbed an arm as Isaac came from behind just in time to catch him.  
“Dad?!” Ezra hadn’t seen what had happened.  
“I’m fine! I’m fine,” Taylor insisted, waving them off as he properly found his feet, “just a little overtired.”  
“Go have a nap, I’ll wake you when we have to go,” Isaac insisted, though it came out more like an order.  
Taylor didn’t dispute it, heading for the couches at the other end of the bus. Zac was sprawled across one of them already and he soon fell onto the opposite. He was asleep in seconds.


	10. Nine: The Faceoff

Dean jolted when Sam hit him in the chest, quickly looking where Sam was pointing toward the tour bus.  
“Where’s he going?” Sam asked rhetorically.  
Isaac had left the bus, dressed in all black and ready for the morning press. They watched on as he looked both ways before crossing the street and heading for the nearby subway.  
“We’d better move if we want to find out,” Dean flung open the car door.  
The brothers raced across to the subway, hoping to catch him before he got on a train. His black suit would camouflage him well with any early commuters. Sam spotted him as they made it to the platform just in time to see him getting on the train, and he pulled Dean onto the carriage behind him. Isaac didn’t appear to be paying much attention to his surroundings, opting instead to focus on his cell phone.  
“Where would he be going at 4am? The other one said they had media this morning,” Dean was rubbing his face to try and wake himself up.  
“Maybe it’s an early radio gig?” Sam suggested half-heartedly.  
“Alone?” Dean scoffed.  
Sam just shrugged.  
They followed him when he got off at Central as he made his way up to the sidewalk and began down the street. The sun was far from rising but there were plenty of people out and about. Isaac didn’t look back once.  
The Winchesters paused when they realized he was heading into a bustling marketplace.  
“Sure. That makes sense,” Dean pulled a face.  
“Dean… there’s a lot of people here,” Sam was looking around worriedly, “what if he’s hunting?”  
“Right... Because who’s going to be surprised by a random person in the crowd having a heart attack?” Dean realized.  
Sam quickly headed inside when he realized Isaac was out of sight, Dean following close behind. When he spotted him again he was standing in what must have been the center of the crowd with his eyes closed.  
“What’s he doing?” Dean frowned, “he has to physically touch people right?”  
Sam didn’t reply, watching Isaac closely.

Isaac could feel the energies of the people walking around him and he quickly counted around fifteen people that seemed especially hyperactive for this time of morning. He could tell just from the type of energy that a few were joggers taking a break from their early routines, and most others were simply buzzed from a good night out and weren’t ready to head home yet.  
He took a deep breath as he focused on the ones with the highest levels, spreading the fingers on his left hand as he concentrated.  
“We have to stop this,” Dean insisted before Sam grabbed him by the arm to stop him moving.  
“We can’t touch him in case he’s sick too,” Sam warned, “we don’t know how fast it works.”  
They were distracted by a cry from the left. A woman wearing exercise gear was having trouble holding up a friend who’d seemed to collapse.  
“That’s one down,” Dean immediately checked that he still had his gun on him.  
“I’ve got her, you stay on him!” Sam ordered, taking off in her direction.  
Isaac’s eyes had opened at the commotion and he was already looking in their direction. A moment after making eye contact with Dean, he disappeared in the rush.  
“Crap,” Dean cursed to himself as he began fighting the direction of the crowd.  
It wasn’t easy but he finally made it out. At the sight of a black coattail at the corner of an alley, he bolted in that direction. His gun was ready and armed.

It wasn’t until Sam got off the phone with 911 that he looked around for Dean. Not seeing him anywhere, he chose to stay with the victim until help arrived. He could already hear sirens in the distance echoing through the city streets.  
At the same time he was keeping an eye on the rest of the crowd. Just because they hadn’t seen Isaac touch her, it didn’t mean he hadn’t – but he wanted to be sure they weren’t missing anything. A couple of people in the crowd were yawning but nothing else seemed amiss.

“STOP!” Dean demanded, pausing at the end of the alley to aim his gun.  
Isaac turned to look over his shoulder, feeling the angry energy Dean was giving off. Once he saw the gun his hands went up.  
“What did you do?” even in the dark Dean’s expression was darker, “did you touch her?”  
“No,” Isaac shook his head.  
“Then what did you do?!”  
Isaac turned to look back down the alley.  
“You move and I put a bullet in you,” Dean warned, “just answer the question!”  
Isaac grit his teeth as he turned back.  
“I couldn’t explain it to you if I wanted to,” he shrugged, “and I don’t want to.”  
“You might have just put that girl in the hospital so try again,” Dean scorned.  
Isaac paused at that, not really wanting to entertain the possibility but knowing Dean could be right at the same time.  
“Something tells me that no matter the explanation, you want to shoot me anyway,” he tried to reason.  
“And I’m sure it’s more than ‘something’,” Dean was getting cocky, “are you sick?”  
“I don’t know,” Isaac answered honestly, “but chances are if Tay had it, I do too. So are you going to call that a mercy killing to justify yourself?”  
Dean could feel himself seething, and Isaac could feel the rise in his energy.  
“Don’t get high and mighty on me. I’m not the one out here killing people for funsies,” Dean scorned.  
“Are you sure?” Isaac’s eyes narrowed, “’something’ also tells me you like killing for fun.”  
He couldn’t help but smirk at Dean’s expression at that.  
“I’ve never killed a human being before,” Isaac assured, “but I’ll bet that you have.”  
“And I’m about to do it again you little punk,” Dean muttered under his breath, raising the gun.  
Isaac immediately felt the shift in energy and he was ready for it. Throwing his hand out in Dean’s direction he pulled all that he dared. Dean lost focus before he could aim as what looked like a flash of white light flew in Isaac’s direction. He saw it appear to absorb itself in his palm before Isaac turned to run.  
Dean fell to his knees as he tried to pull himself together, not entirely sure of what had just happened. He felt suddenly hungover and drunk at the same time. Knowing he’d dropped his gun but unable to see where it had gone, he fumbled for his phone instead in an effort to call Sam. The screen was blurry but having done it a million times before Dean was able to dial before passing out completely.

Sam had been overseeing the woman being loaded into the ambulance when his phone rang. Seeing that it was Dean, he quickly answered expecting to hear that he’d lost Isaac somehow and gotten himself lost in the process.  
“Dean?” he looked over his shoulder in case he was just lost in the crowd.  
There was silence on the other end, before a clatter signified the cell phone falling to the pavement. It took Sam a moment to recognize the sound but he quickly hung up and enabled his GPS tracker.  
He soon found Dean passed out in the alleyway. With a quick look to make sure that Isaac wasn’t anywhere around, he pulled out his phone to dial 911 yet again.  
“Hold on Dean,” he propped him up against the wall while waiting for the call to connect, “they’re coming. Just hold on!”  
At the same time, he was wondering if there was anything they’d be able to do for him.

Taylor looked up before anyone heard anything, but it didn’t take long for Isaac to burst through the bus door. He could feel the energy emanating from his brother and could tell even before he saw him that he was worked up.  
Isaac searched through the bus before finding Taylor still on the couch.  
“We’ve got a problem,” he told him, quickly taking Taylor’s hand.  
Taylor felt an almighty jolt as the rush hit him, quickly having to drop Isaac’s hand again.  
“What the hell was that?!” his brow furrowed as he quickly sat up, Zac’s eyes shooting open at the commotion.  
“Garth’s friends followed me,” Isaac looked between them, “one of them tried to shoot me. I had to drain him.”  
“What are you saying?” Taylor frowned as Isaac moved back to the bunks, “what do you mean ‘drain’? Like completely?”  
“It was all I could think of,” Isaac looked down at where Ezra had fallen asleep again and held an arm out.  
Without touching his nephew, he sent a second stream of energy toward him.  
“What does that mean?” Zac asked groggily, trying to pick himself up from the couch.  
“We can’t leave New York,” Taylor insisted, “we have too much to do. We’ve got a show _tomorrow_. We have to be at GMA in like a half hour!”  
“I’m not saying we leave New York,” Isaac corrected, “I’m just saying we need to watch our backs. You said those two had a friend, I didn’t see anyone else with them.”  
Taylor paused at that, again unsure if he should tell Isaac about Castiel.  
“Okay. What is going on?!” Zac demanded, more awake now.  
“Ike drained one of Garth’s friends who tried to shoot him,” Taylor quickly replied.  
“…What?”  
Isaac finished up with Ezra, feeling himself finally coming down from the high.  
“You two need to get ready,” he changed the subject, “like Tay said, we need to be at Times Square in a half hour.”  
He went back to the front of the bus to get some of the equipment ready leaving Taylor and Zac speechless behind him. After a short moment of silence Taylor got up to check on Ezra, and Zac took the cue to find himself some clean clothes.


	11. Ten: The Talk

Three hours after the attack, Dean still hadn’t woken up. But the symptoms that the doctors had given Sam had lined up with the other victims so he wasn’t very confident that he would. Not without help.  
“Castiel?” he looked to the ceiling, trying for what felt like the tenth time but was probably only half that, “we need you. Dean’s sick and I don’t know how long he’s going to last. Please just tell me if this is the African thing you were telling us about. Give me a sign, please!”  
“It is.”  
Sam turned to see Castiel standing behind him. He had no idea how long he’d been there.  
“But your vessel blood should have made you immune to the effects of the curse,” Castiel was looking down at Dean, puzzled.  
“I only found him like this, I don’t know what happened,” Sam admitted, “could you wake him so we can find out?”  
“There’s something different,” Castiel’s eyes ran the length of Dean’s body, “he’s worse than the others.”  
“Can you heal him or not?” Sam suddenly looked worried.  
Without responding, Castiel stepped forward and placed his palm on Dean’s forehead. The color returned to his face before his eyes opened slowly. Once he was done Castiel stood back again.  
“Dean?” Sam first checked over his shoulder to make sure no nurses had seen, “Dean, what happened to you?”  
Dean groaned, lifting a hand to cover his eyes. The hospital lights were too bright for him.  
“Dean?”  
“Give me a second.”  
“It takes a while to come back from sometimes.”  
Sam jumped at a voice from the doorway, turning to see Taylor standing there. He had flowers in one hand and a coffee in the other.  
“I don’t think it’s ever been this bad, but… it takes a lot out of you,” he added sheepishly.  
“If you’re here to apologize you’ll have to do better than that,” Dean was already scowling as he pushed himself up on the bed.  
Sam stood from his seat as Taylor checked over his shoulder. Making sure no one was watching, he set the flowers down nearby and closed the door behind himself. Neither Sam nor Dean took their eyes off him unsure of what he was going to do.  
“We need to talk,” he said decidedly.  
“You think talking’s going to fix any of this?” Sam frowned.  
“No,” Taylor admitted, “but we need help, and you’re the only-“  
“Help?!” Dean’s expression darkened again.  
Taylor paused at his reaction.  
“You’re the only ones who know something about what’s going on,” he eyed Castiel especially, “and if you could help me, maybe you can help the others.”  
“What do you mean?” he had Sam’s attention at least.  
“You’re sick again,” Castiel realized, moving closer to Taylor.  
Taylor stood his ground, though his instincts told him to run. Castiel’s energy was like nothing he’d ever felt before.  
“Why?” Castiel demanded.  
“If I tell you,” he gulped slightly, “do you promise not to hurt anyone?”  
Sam frowned at that, wondering again what exactly had happened between Isaac and Dean.  
“I have no reason to, the disease is curable,” Castiel was blunt.  
“I think we all have it. Those of us with this ability, that is,” Taylor blushed a little as he spoke, his energy not the only thing intimidating about Castiel, “and I think my son is the source.”  
“Where is he?” Castiel asked, still staring him down.  
“I told him to stay on the bus,” Taylor’s grip tightened on his coffee a little.  
Castiel reached out to take hold of his arm and they both disappeared. Sam flinched before looking back at Dean.  
“We gotta get out of here,” Dean rolled his eyes.  
“What happened to you?” Sam demanded first, well aware that his brother still wasn’t up to standard, “what did Isaac do?”  
“I don’t know,” Dean admitted, “but whatever it was… there was this bright flash of light and I went down. Didn’t feel a thing. Then I just felt like I was drunk.”  
“Why did he do it?”  
Dean looked almost as sheepish as Taylor just had.  
“You were going to hurt him, weren’t you?” Sam smirked, taking a seat again.  
“He hurt me!” Dean scowled, “I should have taken the shot!”  
“Sounds like self-defence to me,” Sam shrugged, “you went after him.”  
“Because he hurt someone else!” Dean defended.  
“I checked on her,” Sam nodded to himself, “same symptoms, but not as severe. They’re expecting her to make a full recovery.”  
“What?” Dean was surprised.  
“I don’t know why. But like Cas said, something was different this time.”  
He paused for thought.  
“Maybe it’s the difference between who was doing it. Maybe Isaac and Taylor control it differently to each other.”  
“I really don’t care,” Dean grumbled, reaching for the nearby TV remote.  
“You should,” Sam watched him, “if Isaac can control it more he might have saved your life.”  
“Yet he’s still the reason I’m in here,” Dean turned the TV on.  
“Or it could have been the disease,” Sam shrugged again.  
“You heard Cas, we’re supposed to be immune.”  
“I did, but… you were still out of it,” Sam realized, “how did you hear that?”  
“Oh _come on_!”  
Sam looked up at the TV and smirked, seeing a clip of Hanson being interviewed on Good Morning America. Taylor was wearing the same clothes they’d just seen him in.

Taylor took a moment to recover once he realized he was very suddenly back on the bus. It took all the self-control he had not to spill the coffee.  
“Dad?!” he heard Ezra calling from the bunks.  
He rushed to his side, quickly taking his hand and transferring some more energy across. Castiel followed him slowly. He could barely see Ezra from his angle.  
“What is that? What’s on the bus?” Ezra’s eyes were wide.  
“He’s a friend,” Taylor hoped, “he’s here to help.”  
Ezra shuffled out of the bunk a little so he could look up and see Castiel. Castiel just stared back down at him.  
“What are you?” Ezra asked.  
“Your father asked the same thing.”  
Taylor quickly checked to make sure no one else was on the bus. They had to all still be on the way back from the interview.  
“He says he’s an angel,” Taylor quickly explained.  
“He looks powerful,” Ezra whispered.  
“How old are you?” Castiel tilted his head slightly.  
“Fourteen,” he replied, “fifteen next month though.”  
“You haven’t reached physical maturity yet,” Castiel remained blunt, “this must be why the curse is worse for you.”  
“So this is the same thing?” Taylor wanted to be sure.  
“Yes. It is worse for children. For adults it’s a minor inconvenience. You would feel your energy levels depleting early.”  
“Yeah,” Taylor confirmed.  
“For juveniles, if left unchecked, it will slowly remove the ability altogether. Without access to outside energy the life force cannot replenish itself. It will become deadly.”  
Taylor felt Ezra tense and gave his hand a quick squeeze.  
“Feeding him your energy is what has kept him alive this long.”  
“So fix him,” Taylor looked up again, “you cured me, so cure him. Please!”  
“I can’t.”  
“What?”  
“It’s not that simple,” Castiel explained patiently, “this has been left to fester for months. He should have died a long time ago.”  
“Are you saying you can’t help him?” Taylor’s brow furrowed, “if giving him energy is the only way to help, I don’t want to keep hurting people!”  
“It’s not the only way,” Castiel assured, “I said I couldn’t help him. That doesn’t mean no one can.”  
“Then what are you talking about?” Taylor was confused.


	12. Eleven: The Fix

“The Impala’s still at the bus,” Sam reminded Dean as they worked their way out of the hospital, “we’ll have to catch a cab.”  
“Just as well,” Dean grunted, still struggling to walk straight, “I got a bone to pick with Johnny Cash.”  
Sam just rolled his eyes as they made it outside and he quickly hailed them a cab. When they got back to where the bus was parked, they were surprised to see the door wide open and no one around.  
“That can’t be good,” Dean got out as Sam paid their driver.  
They waited until the cab pulled away before going over to investigate. Both of them were surprised to find Taylor sitting just inside, texting on his phone. He looked up when their shadows fell across him.  
“What’s going on?” Sam asked as Dean kept an eye out.  
“Your friend took my son,” Taylor was obviously nervous, “he said they were going to Africa.”  
“Well if it’s any consolation he’s not much of a drama queen and they probably have gone to actual Africa,” Dean said.  
“Great,” Taylor’s expression didn’t change.  
“I’m sure they’re fine,” Sam assured, “but why Africa? He told us those tribes were wiped out.”  
“He said something about going back to where it all started. A tomb,” Taylor tried to remember his exact words, “something about a voodoo cleansing ritual that had to be held in the place the curse was born.”  
“He did his research,” Sam shot Dean a glance.  
“He had to take Ezra with him,” Taylor looked between them.  
“When’s your brother due back?” Dean tried to sound uninterested, but failed.  
“A while ago,” Taylor admitted, “but he’s not known for being on time.”  
He leant forward to look past them as if checking to see if his crew were coming back.  
“You guys know you need a more inconspicuous car, right?”  
“Can you do what your brother did to me?” Dean demanded, immediately taking offence.  
“Sort of,” Taylor rubbed his leg pacifyingly.  
“Sort of?”  
“I’m not as strong as he is,” Taylor admitted, at the same time wondering if he should, “I usually have to touch people, he doesn’t. I just never took the time to hone the craft so to speak.”  
“But he did?”  
“Why wouldn’t you?” Sam wondered aloud, “if this is going to affect you your whole life, why not?”  
“It’s never been an issue until now. We didn’t realize something like this could even happen.”  
“Ignorance isn’t an excuse,” Dean scoffed.  
“And I was busy,” Taylor leant forward again to see where Dean had stepped back, “this job isn’t ‘sleep all day, party all night’ you know.”  
Instead of a response he saw Dean’s hand go to his holster and knew that his brothers were back. Taylor pulled himself to his feet and got off the bus.  
“That didn’t take long,” he heard Zac’s voice first.  
“Where is everyone?” Taylor frowned, only sighting his brothers.  
“They took an early lunch,” Isaac was eyeing Dean as he spoke, “we told them we needed some family time.”  
“And for once it worked,” Zac was already feeling the tension.  
“Where’s Ezra?” Isaac finally focused on Taylor.  
“Wait, he’s not here?” Zac looked between them.  
“He’s in Africa,” Dean was happy to inform them.  
“Africa?!” Zac focused on Taylor.  
“Their ‘friend’ said it was the same thing I had, but a lot worse,” Taylor quickly explained.  
“His name is Cas,” Dean scowled.  
“Cas? Cas told me he needed some kind of voodoo ritual to get rid of the curse.”  
“Curse?” Isaac’s brow rose, “I thought it was a virus?”  
“And wait, how did this Cas… what is he?” Zac was very confused, “did they just leave?”  
“He’s an angel, time is kind of fluid for him,” Sam offered.  
Zac fell silent as he took a moment to comprehend.  
“Angel,” Isaac didn’t believe it.  
“It started off as a curse in central Africa somewhere,” Taylor ignored it, “and essentially mutated into a virus. It hits kids harder than adults because their resistance hasn’t matured enough yet. Regular people just can’t handle it at all so they just kind’ve… whither. They dry up.”  
“Like Vince Vincente?”  
“Not quite as dramatic but yeah.”  
“You guys know about Vince?” Dean’s scowl disappeared.  
“Of course. He was mounting a huge comeback and then… poof,” Taylor shrugged.  
“We weren’t on the guest list or anything but we had friends that were,” Zac added.  
“I don’t know that I expected him to actually make it on the comeback trail after what happened to Jen,” Isaac admitted, “but no one was expecting that blaze of glory either.”  
“We were there,” Dean announced, gaining all Hanson attention.  
“Vince was possessed,” Sam quickly added, “it wasn’t him.”  
“That explains a lot,” Isaac scratched his head.  
“I wouldn’t be surprised if that happened a lot in this industry,” Zac couldn’t help but smirk.  
“You’d know better than us,” Dean’s sarcastic smile matched.  
“Sorry about this morning,” Isaac bit the bullet now that the tension had eased on common grounds, “but you didn’t really leave me a choice there.”  
“No choice?” Dean jumped on.  
“You were going to shoot me,” Isaac turned to face him, “what else was I supposed to do?”  
“I wasn’t going to shoot you,” Dean scorned.  
“Yes. You were,” Isaac corrected, his true expression hidden behind his sunglasses, “I could tell in the same way that I knew Ezra wasn’t on that bus.”  
“You read energies?” Sam tried to understand, “is that like a psychic ability?”  
“Call it what you will,” Isaac shrugged, “it’s not as helpful as it sounds.”  
“It was today,” Taylor insisted, “without you Ezra might not have made it this far.”  
“And that girl wouldn’t be in the hospital!” Dean’s voice rose.  
“Did you even bother checking on her?” Taylor stepped in to defend his brother, “she left the hospital before you did.”  
“What?”  
“They explained it away as a dizzy spell from working out too hard,” Zac explained.  
“How? Why was she different?” Sam frowned.  
“Vessel blood maybe?” Dean suggested.  
“Because I knew what I was doing,” Isaac assured, “if I hadn’t have been full of adrenaline in that alley you would have been the same.”  
Dean was about to rebut when the bus suddenly swayed to the side. Realizing what it had to be, Taylor was the first one back on it with Isaac on his tail. Sam and Zac stood back as Dean followed them.  
“Dad!” Ezra ran toward him.  
“Wait!” Castiel threw out an arm, stopping him from moving further.  
Taylor froze, unsure of what had happened.  
“Your father and Uncle still carry the curse,” Castiel released his hold as he stepped past the teenager, “you can’t touch them yet.”  
“We both do?” Isaac frowned before looking to his brother, “I thought he cured you?”  
“I must have contracted it again this morning,” Taylor reasoned.  
Castiel didn’t hesitate, but put his fingers to Taylor’s forehead again. Taylor felt a similar jolt to what he had when he’d been abducted, but much less severe. He was able to stay standing as Castiel moved on to Isaac.  
Isaac backed away before he could touch him.  
“It’s okay!” Taylor insisted, “he’s just going to help.”  
“You can see his grace, can’t you?” Dean realized aloud, looking between them.  
“Can you?” Taylor looked his brother up and down accusingly.  
“So that’s what you call it,” Isaac hadn’t taken his eyes from Castiel, “and… yeah.”  
“What does it look like?” Taylor had to ask.  
Before Isaac could respond, Castiel reached across to touch his forehead again. This time Isaac let him. He barely reacted to the healing, making Taylor internally roll his eyes.  
“I can’t really describe it,” Isaac admitted, rubbing his forehead once Castiel took his hand away.  
“Are we good here?” Dean checked for them.  
“Yes,” Castiel confirmed, “they are all cured.”  
“What about the one outside?” Dean thumbed over his shoulder.  
“He’s not the same as us,” Taylor revealed, “I told you not everyone was.”  
He jumped when Ezra suddenly hugged him from behind, and turned to give him a proper hug. He could tell his son’s energy was still depleted, but he could just as easily tell it wouldn’t be long before he was back at full strength.  
“The curse took hold of Ezra from Europe,” Castiel informed Dean, “I plan to clean up there immediately. Call me if you hear anything on Lucifer.”  
“He wasn’t in Europe,” Taylor was confused, “he didn’t join the tour until we got to Australia.”  
“It’s very possible that it was transmitted to him through you or your brother,” Castiel looked between them, “if you’ll excuse me, I have a job to do.”  
With that, Castiel disappeared. Some paperwork went flying from the nearby table as he flew.  
Dean turned to leave the bus.  
“Did he say ‘Lucifer’?” Isaac wasn’t sure he’d heard right.

“So…” Zac folded his arms awkwardly, “what do you guys do now? If this is over I mean.”  
“Hit the road,” Sam gave him a glance, his hands going into his pockets, “until we find another case.”  
“So this is your job?” Zac’s brow rose, “how do you sustain it?”  
“Not very easily,” Sam smirked, “but we have our ways.”  
“I’m sure you do,” Zac smirked in return, “I’m not judging by the way. The Lord knows our hands aren’t clean.”  
“Have you gone on a hunt before?” Sam looked over with interest.  
“Not what you would call ‘a hunt’ per se. Certainly nothing Garth would call a hunt,” Zac reasoned, “but we’ve met our share of the supernatural along the way. We always keep a good stock of iron and salt on the bus and Garth hooked us up with some protection for the bus and for our homes.”  
“How did you meet Garth?”  
“How did you?” Zac asked back.  
“Mutual friend. Your turn.”  
“Not that easily. A vampire attacked the bus one night in Wisconsin.”  
“A vampire?” Sam was surprised, “there aren’t supposed to be that many around anymore.”  
“And a few less thanks to Garth. This was a few years back,” Zac shrugged, “long before the werewolf thing. It was the first vampire we’d seen but not our first encounter. That goes back to the 90’s.”  
“Have you killed anything?” Sam was curious.  
Zac paused, his eyes searching the pavement.  
“Does it count if it’s technically dead already?”  
“Well…”  
“What are you guys doing tomorrow night?” Zac looked up again.


	13. Epilogue

“Tell me again why I can’t drive?” Dean grumbled as he leant back and played with his phone.  
“The Hansons told us you probably wouldn’t be over what Isaac did to you for a couple of days,” Sam turned a corner as he spoke, “I’m not taking any chances with Cas being AWOL right now.”  
“Whatever. I feel fine,” Dean put his earbuds in.  
“You don’t look-“ Sam cut himself off when he realized Dean couldn’t hear him anyway, “-fine.”  
He sighed to himself as he started looking for the motel they were aiming for. When Dean started nodding his head to the music but Sam knew it wasn’t as loud as he usually played it, he started to get suspicious.  
Pulling off to the side of the road, he knew he couldn’t let the car stop or Dean would realize what he was doing. So before it came to a halt he ripped out the left earbud and quickly put it to his ear.  
“HEY!” Dean began to protest, “you don’t mess with a man’s music!”  
“Is this Hanson?” Sam thought he recognised the voices, but not the song itself.  
“It’s research,” Dean leant over to pull the earbud back, “it’s called _Panic In The Streets_ , and they’re singing about the four horsemen.”  
“So it _is_ Hanson,” Sam mused.  
“No, it’s research.”  
“You think they knew about the four horsemen?” Sam’s brow rose.  
“The lyrics talk about black eyes, so you tell me.”  
Sam hesitated at that before pulling out his phone. He quickly Googled the lyrics to the song and read down them.  
“So if you’re downloading their music now I guess you won’t mind going to the concert tomorrow?”  
“What?” Dean scowled.  
“Zac invited us, and I said yes,” Sam glanced across, “I figure we could keep an eye on things, and make sure nothing else goes wrong.”  
Dean groaned at that as he started to put his phone away. Sam smirked and went back to reading lyrics before frowning when he saw a note at the bottom.  
“Dean?”  
“Yeah?”  
“…How exactly did you get this song?”


End file.
